Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary
by ToryTigress92
Summary: Prompt drabble series centred around Missy x Clara. Will include AUs, canon-compliant, long, short, romantic, angsty, comedic but all Missfle, all the time.
1. Prompt 1: Come over here and make me

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I've decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **This first prompt will be establishedcouple!Missfle, semi-canon compliant I.e. it doesn't take place in an AU.**

* * *

 _Prompt #1: "Come over here and make me._ "

Clara shivered at the cool air as she hopped out of the shower, steam curling in the air around her as she reached for her towel. She gathered her hair and twisted it, until water droplets rained down on the tiles of her bathroom, then let the damp mass swing back. Since cutting her hair, it had become far easier to maintain.

She let it hang, as she tucked the towel tightly around her body and left the bathroom. She had a date to get ready for.

As she padded barefoot across her bedroom to her wardrobe, she felt a shiver of sensation wash over her skin, as she inhaled a familiar smell of ozone in the air. "You know, we really need to have a conversation about personal boundaries sometime," she said nonchalantly, glancing over her shoulder at the woman now sat insouciantly in the wingback chair her grandmother had given her as a housewarming present.

"And I thought we cleared that particular hurdle sometime ago," Missy smirked, teasing her. One curl had sprung loose from her usual hairstyle, and she twined it around her finger, playing with it disinterestedly as she eyed Clara's semi-naked form.

"Dating doesn't preclude personal boundaries. And personal boundaries don't preclude just popping in and out of my bedroom whenever you feel like it," Clara quipped, copying Missy's cadence mockingly as the Time Lady's brow rose. "Now go away."

"Nope," Missy pouted, still eying Clara hungrily. "I have a rather lovely view right here."

With a sigh, Clara turned away from the incorrigible Time Lady and back to her wardrobe. Long experience had taught her that, just like a lot of teenagers in her classes, ignoring her was a far better course of action than fighting it out with her. She browsed the rack intently, goosebumps popping up on her skin where a familiar, now heatedly lascivious gaze was tracing her skin. Her fingers tripped over dress after dress, struggling to concentrate when a horny Time Lady was staring at her. Shudders were breaking out across her skin, anticipation was pooling in her stomach like the wetness between her legs. Finally, Clara snapped. "Will you stop staring at me and go away!?" she demanded, turning round to glare balefully at Missy.

One fine brow quirked challengingly. "Come over here and make me," the Time Lady replied, biting her lip provocatively.

Clara sighed. Time Lords/Ladies. Overgrown teenagers, all of them. She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table and noted that they still had an hour or so until their date. They had time.

And if they got carried away, she'd make Missy sort it out for her. Benefits of having a Time Lady girlfriend.

Without another word, Clara turned fully towards Missy and dropped the towel. "Be careful what you wish for," she murmured boldly, delighting in Missy's nonplussed expression, her mouth gaping slightly as Clara sauntered across the floor, hips swaying and planted herself in her Time Lady's lap.

Their lips met hungrily, and refused to part.

They promptly forgot about their date altogether. Who needs Chinese from the 77th Century anyway?

* * *

 _Prompt #2: 'Have you lost your damn mind!?'_

 _To be continued..._


	2. Prompt 2: Have you lost your damn mind?

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **So this is another semi-canon compliant drabble, with established!couple Missfle, with the proviso that their relationship remains a secret from UNIT. I do have AUs in mind, coffee shop, morning commute, secretary-boss, teacher-student, teacher-student!teacher etc. I am however open to suggestions if there are any you'd love to see for these two!**

* * *

Prompt #2: 'Have you lost your damn mind?"

It wasn't very often that Clara got to see Kate outside of official UNIT business. The older woman was a calm, shrewdly intelligent presence on the scene of any crisis but she could also be unbearably funny in less formal surrounds.

She was having a quick break back on Earth after several weeks consecutive travelling with the Doctor. As much as she loved her travels, sometimes it was nice to come home and just relax. And get her shot of good old 21st Century Earth caffeine. Futuristic versions were good, but they usually left her hyperactive for several days.

Clara barely waited for her coffee to cool before she took the first sip, all but moaning at the heavenly taste. She spotted Kate's raised eyebrow, amusement twinkling in those kind eyes.

"Good, I take it?" Kate asked, stirring her own drink, Earl Grey with just a splash of milk.

"Not even 51st Century New New Earth coffee shops can beat good ol' Costa's," Clara joked. She stirred a little sugar in, watching the hypnotic movement of her spoon.

They were sat outside the coffee shop on Shoreditch High Street, as far away from their respective worlds as possible. It was one of Kate's few days off, and she'd texted Clara asking if she fancied a catch-up and coffee sometime.

Unlike most women Kate's age, Clara never felt patronised or belittled when she spoke to her. She was funny and self-deprecatingly truthful, telling her stories about the Doctor's time with UNIT in the seventies and the things he'd get up to with her Dad. Clara hoarded all the stories greedily, gleefully planning a little blackmail in the future.

"Do you ever want to?" Clara asked, abruptly, out of nowhere. Kate looked at her questioningly, and she hurried to clarify. "Travel with the Doctor, I mean?"

"It would be an incredible experience," Kate mused. "First and foremost I am a scientist. The things I could see and learn with him…but even if he asked, I wouldn't take him up on it."

"Why?" Clara asked, frowning in confusion.

Kate smiled a little mistily. "My father raised me with a certain dedication to duty," she explained softly. "It's in my very blood. He encouraged me in my science, pushed me to achieve ever more, but always at the epicentre of that was the duty he'd entrenched in me. My duty to this planet, to humanity, to make it a better world than the one he'd fought to defend."

"Science leads," Clara breathed, and Kate nodded. "I can understand that. But the Tardis could bring you right back whenever you wanted, even five minutes after you left?"

"But what about the interim?" the scientist pointed out. "Anything could happen. What's more…the Doctor doesn't have the best track record for getting where he wants to go, _**when**_ he wants to get there, does he?"

Clara had to agree with that one. She giggled to herself, as Kate shook her head and smiled in amusement when a shadow fell across them. "We're not quite finished yet, thank you," Kate murmured, squinting against the bright August sunshine but the waitress was backlit by the sun.

Clara, on the other hand, realised exactly who it was and stiffened.

"I'm not a waitress, Katie dear," Missy drawled disdainfully. Suddenly, Clara felt her move behind her and then chill steel against her throat. "I just need to borrow Clara here for a moment."

Clara saw Kate stiffen, ready to jump up and act, but she shook her head slightly. "You won't get away with this," she breathed with difficulty. Missy's arm around her neck was tight.

"What do you want with her?" Kate demanded coldly.

"Oh, just a chat," Missy smiled and giggled. Clara wanted to die from embarrassment when she felt the Time Lady's free hand wander down her hip beneath the table. "I was getting ever so lonely."

"If you think for one second that-!" Kate began furiously, as Missy snorted in contempt and tightened her grip on Clara warningly.

"Now I'm bored as well," Missy replied. "Quite a dangerous combination."

Clara didn't have the breath to agree.

"Well, this _**has**_ been lovely but must dash, Katie dear," Missy continued cheerily, forcing Clara upright and moved her backwards until they were clear of the table. "Things to do, people to gratuitously and horrifically murder. Ciao!"

Clara felt the familiar weight of a vortex manipulator around her wrist, and then that awful, stomach-lurching rush as Kate's horrified face disappeared from view.

* * *

Clara collapsed to her knees on the hard metal floor of Missy's Tardis, stomach heaving.

Missy tsked. "If you make a mess, you clearing it up," she told her disgustedly, stepping around the human carefully.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Clara demanded angrily, as her stomach settled and she glared up at the Time Lady. "What the hell were you playing at, popping up out of nowhere and kidnapping me in front of the head of UNIT!?"

"Like I said, I got bored," Missy said, disinterestedly inspecting her fingernails. "You must have been too. You could have picked a far better conversationalist than the daughter one."

"I felt like some _normal_ conversation for once," Clara replied pointedly, folding her arms across her chest defiantly. Missy pouted as she stepped towards her human.

"Oh, come now darling," she murmured coaxingly. "Didn't you miss me? We always have such fun together…"

"Don't you dare," Clara all but growled warningly, as Missy pushed her against the console, her hands jammed tightly around her hips. Missy just smirked.

"Now be a good puppy and howl for me," she breathed, dropping to her knees and lifting Clara's skirt.

"Missy!" Clara snapped, stunned. And that had to be the worst euphemism she'd ever heard. "Missy, you can't…use sex…to…to"

But Clara was quickly become incoherent as Missy's tongue got to work, and her legs turned to jelly. "Stop me…from being angry at…you…oh wow…okay…" Clara gasped, giving in and lifting one hand from the console to spear her fingers through Missy's chaotic curls. "Ok, I'm shutting up now."

 _Best idea you've had in ages, love…_

Missy's telepathic reply echoed gently in Clara's mind. After all, her mouth was rather busy at the moment.

* * *

 _Prompt #3: 'Please, don't leave.'_

 _To be continued..._


	3. Prompt 3: Please, don't leave

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **So admittedly…this turned into an angst-y one. Mea culpa :P**

* * *

Prompt# 3: 'Please, don't leave.'

Clara could barely believe it. She couldn't believe it, she _**refused**_ to believe it. But the evidence was there, the complete, utterly incontrovertible evidence was right in front of her eyes, and she couldn't deny it, however much she wanted to.

The Doctor was dead.

And she was alone.

He'd died doing what he always did, doing what he was born for. He saved a planet, a people, who truly had no idea of the cataclysm that had occurred the moment their defender fell dead, his enemy vanquished but only at the cost of his own life.

And Clara's.

Once, she'd dimly recalled the Doctor explaining how a Time Lord should be buried, that their bodies couldn't be allowed to remain or they would become an open schism in the fabric of space-time. Clara had seen that for herself, on Trenzalore, and the damage it could do.

She wouldn't let that happen to him. If nothing else, she would ensure his life, his mad, wondrous life remained sacrosanct. No one would ever touch it.

While the aliens piled up kindling to make a pyre, Clara cried beside his body.

* * *

When the preparations were complete, and the Doctor's body arranged on the pyre, Clara emerged from the Tardis. The tears had dried, leaving salty trails on her cheeks, her eyes haunted by the things she'd seen. In wordless understanding, the aliens left her to it, one handing. Clara the torch that would set the pyre ablaze.

The moor they stood on was bleak, cold and silent, but above them the sky glistened with an infinity of stars. Their light fell on Clara as she watched, and waited.

Behind her, she sensed the sudden rip in space-time, the fissure re-sealing as quickly as it had been opened, the taste of ozone acrid on Clara's tongue. Hauling in a shuddering breath, she spoke. "You got my message then."

The new arrival stepped up beside her, cold blue eyes fixed on the pyre and the body it held. "What happened?" Missy breathed in a pained whisper.

"What always happens," Clara replied, with an equal pain in her voice. She shrugged. "He saved the day."

"But not himself," Missy finished for her. "Not this time."

Clara wanted to cry at that brutal, but so characteristically Missy-ish, observation. The hand that held the torch trembled. She didn't, she _refused_ to cry. Not in front of her.

"I'd thought you'd want to say goodbye," she stated, calmly despite the maelstrom of grief that still waited to suck her back down. She felt the Time Lady's gaze on her face, but she refused to look at her.

"Thank you," Missy replied softly, as she stepped hesitantly towards the pyre. With an agile leap up, she ascended it and knelt beside the Doctor's body. For one wild, hateful moment Clara envisaged thrusting the torch into the pyre and watching Missy burn along with the Doctor. She imagined watching the Last of the Time Lords left in this dimension burn.

But then she'd be alone.

She couldn't kill Missy. She was all she had left of her friend. She was all she had left, period, full stop.

So instead she just watched calmly and intently, as Missy drifted a hand over the Doctor's aged face, soothing away the wrinkles and the cares of two millennia, before she leant down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Clara looked away at that. Some goodbyes, no one should witness. The sheer devastation in Missy's eyes was another.

Clara waited until Missy clambered down from the pyre and once again stood at her side, silently. Clara knew the moment was now, that she should do it now, but her hand was still. Paralysed, she couldn't do it. To do it was to give up, to admit the Doctor was gone with all the finality of a death knell.

A hand suddenly appeared in her field of vision, gently caressing Clara's as it folded over the top of hers. "Together," Missy whispered, gently guiding Clara's hand forward as the human met the Time Lady's eyes.

A heartbeat. Then, "Together," Clara agreed, with a pang.

Together, Time Lady and Impossible Girl thrust the torch into the pyre and watched as the flame leapt high into the radiant night sky.

* * *

Hours later, Clara sat on the jump seat in the Tardis console room. The ancient ship mourned her pilot too, it seemed, since the lights were dim and the old girl made no noise. It made Clara want to scream.

"I'll take you home," Missy stood at the console, staring at the screen. "One last favour for the old man."

"Thank you," Clara breathed, eyes still fixed on the floor. Suddenly, two shiny black boots appeared in front of her, and an icy, inexorable hand tilted her chin up, not cruelly but firmly, brooking no disobedience.

"His confession dial," Missy said gently. "Do you have it?"

Clara frowned in confusion. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "This wasn't exactly planned."

"Nevertheless, the Doctor would have always been prepared," Missy corrected her. On a normal day, her gentleness and tenderness would have been unnerving. But it wasn't a normal day. "Even if he thought he was going to win, he would have always been prepared."

That reference to their conversation, so long ago on Skaro, sent a shudder through Clara. "I don't know…" she breathed, before a memory made it through the morass of grief in her mind and nudged her. Wordlessly, she got up and left the console room, Missy on her heels.

Clara went to the library, eyes scanning the shelves carefully. Only three days ago, she'd caught the Doctor in here, glancing through an old book of hers. 101 Places to See, her mother's book.

She found the old tome, her heart pounding when she realised it wasn't quite put back in its proper place. It teetered slightly on the edge, sticking out from the rest of the books. It seemed a little bit thicker than before.

With trembling hands, Clara reached up and pulled it down, holding it reverently in her hands. Beside her, Missy was quiet and patient, another reminder of how very not normal a day it had been.

Her heart in her throat, Clara let the book fall open. There, nestled within its pages where her mother's leaf had once rested, was the Doctor's confession dial.

Clara picked it up gingerly, wondering if she'd suffer another energy charge from it but it did nothing. It was heavy and solid in her palm, as she carefully set her mother's book on the ledge once more, and she turned back to Missy.

"Do you-?" she started, holding it out to Missy. The Time Lady shook her head, a wealth of pain in her eyes.

"I have a feeling the Doctor will have changed it since our last encounter," she replied softly, her eyes nevertheless betraying her hunger and her grief. Unsure what to do, Clara sat down in one of the library chairs, eyes fixed on the bronze-hued dial.

With a click, it began to open.

Clara heard movement and looked up sharply. Missy was about to leave, and she called out, without thinking. "Don't!"

Missy paused, obviously torn and hating it. "I really don't need to see yet more proof of how much he loved you more than me-" she started, with a kind of resigned fury that tugged at Clara's heart.

"Please," Clara tried again. "Don't leave."

Speechless, Missy stared at Clara. Beseechingly, Clara held her gaze.

The Mistress took another step, then another, until she stood by Clara's side. Clara placed the dial down on the floor, as a familiar face flickered into being and that grumpy, harsh brogue filled the air one last time.

Clara wasn't surprised when she felt Missy perch on the arm of the chair, next to her. And she didn't recoil as Missy's hand suddenly and abruptly entwined with hers. It felt right, and good. They were the Doctor's two oldest friends, it was right that they should be here together.

As Clara let the maelstrom of her grief take her at last, as she sat listening to his greatest and final secret, she felt Missy's cold hand in hers and clung all the tighter.

* * *

 _Prompt #4: "Do you_ _…_ _well_ _…_ _I mean_ _…_ _I could give you a massage?_ _"_

 _To be continued…_


	4. Prompt 4: I could give you a massage?

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **AU this time: Boss!Missy and Secretary!Clara.**

* * *

Prompt #4: "Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?"

Clara had been working at Saxon Industries for exactly six months, three days and eight hours. It had been her first job straight out of university, and for that Clara knew she was lucky. Most of her graduate friends were either doing unpaid internships or still job-hunting.

Yeah, being a glorified PA and researcher wasn't exactly her dream job, but it would do for now. The salary was basic, entry-level, but it let Clara rent out a room in a decent house with decent flatmates, all of whom worked at Saxon Industries so they all had common ground to snipe about when they trudged home, exhausted and in desperate need of alcohol.

Missy Saxon, CEO of Saxon Industries, was a notoriously hard taskmaster. Ruthless, conniving and ambitious, she had settled for no less than total domination of the pharmaceutical markets. Many had underestimated her, to their cost. She was like a black widow spider, beautiful and enticing, but heaven help anyone would let that lull them into a false sense of safety. She was arrogant, domineering and her word was law.

There were times when Clara honestly didn't know if she loved or hated her.

Clara had become aware of her embarrassing crush during her very first week. She'd sat in on a board meeting and watched Missy verbally eviscerate several board members with almost childlike glee. Clara had always been a control freak herself, but watching someone else go psycho on a group of self-satisfied, misogynistic men had been all too entertaining. And slightly arousing.

Which was half Clara's problem. Her boss was a narcissistic, controlling sociopath who generally treated her staff like a pack of workhorses. She'd worked herself to exhaustion many a time, falling asleep at her desk or gritting her teeth to hold back frustrated tears.

The other half was that Missy was obscurely enigmatic. Just as many times as Clara had fallen asleep at her desk, she'd woken up to find a fresh mug of coffee by her head. None of her work colleagues would admit to it, and not many of them worked any where near as late as Clara. The only person who did, on a regular basis, and was coincidentally present every time Clara fell asleep at her desk was her boss.

It was impossible. It was completely and utterly fantastical.

It was also the only conclusive theory that fitted all the facts.

Okay, maybe she'd read a little too much Sherlock Holmes when she was a kid but still…

But not even Clara had the spine to approach her unapproachable boss, yet alone ask. Missy was like a rose; beautiful to look at, but the thorns would prick deep if you got too close.

* * *

Missy seemed in a particularly foul mood that day, barking at several interns who scurried away from her faster than Clara had thought possible.

"God, what's got the boss's garter belt in a twist?" Clara's co-worker, Amy, muttered beside her, where they stood chatting on their lunch break.

"She's probably just stressed," Clara replied defensively. "We've got the UNIT-Torchwood merger coming up-"

"You really do have it bad, don't you Ozzie?" Amy chuckled, shaking her head. She was one of the few who knew about Clara's crush. She was also Clara's flatmate.

"I do not!" Clara protested, eying the red-head Scot narrowly. "How's Rory?" she asked coquettishly, sure that mentioning the sweet but shy boy from Medical Trials would rile her up. Just a little bit of revenge.

"Hey, not fair Ozzie," Amy growled. Clara smirked as she raised her mug to her lips.

"When do I ever play fair?" she asked rhetorically, looking back out into the office. To her shock, Missy was staring. Right at her.

Amy quietly wolf-whistled. "Well, if that's not an I-want-to-throw-you-down-on-my-desk-and-shag-you-senseless-look, then I'm joining a nunnery," the Scot muttered.

"Do you always have to be so…blunt?" Clara hissed, in irritation. Amy put down her mug and pointed to herself.

"Scottish," she replied, before flouncing out with a teasing wink at Clara. She blushed, abruptly turning away to clean her mug and get back to work. Missy wasn't looking at her anymore anyway.

* * *

Evening came, and soon Clara was once again the last person in the office. It wasn't deliberate, they really did have a company merger in a few days and Clara had several reports to get done.

She wasn't the only one burning the midnight oil. From her cubicle, Clara could see Missy at her desk through the glass walls of her office. Trying not to let herself hope, Clara finally finished the last report and printed it off. With a yawn, she sat back and stretched, glancing around the darkened office.

Even the cleaners had gone home.

With a deep breath, Clara retrieved the reports from the printer and went to give them to her boss before going home.

"Miss Saxon?" she called, knocking lightly on her office door. "I've got those reports you wanted for tomorrow morning."

The older woman looked up, her eyes flaring in surprise. "Good Lord, Clara," she beckoned her in. "I meant I wanted those reports tomorrow _afternoon_."

"I aim to please," Clara smirked, despite her nerves. She'd always been a natural flirt.

Missy just rolled her eyes as she took the reports from her. "Yes, I'll bet you a right swot in school," she replied cruelly. Clara didn't move, just raising one brow as her boss stretched and grimaced.

"Are you alright, Miss Saxon?" Clara asked, truly concerned. Missy never showed physical discomfort, even after twelve hour days in six-inch heels. She was practically Wonder Woman. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Unless you can do what my own staff masseuse couldn't," Missy waved a hand at her in dismissal. "Somehow, I don't recall seeing _**that**_ particular skill on your CV."

""Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?" Clara offered suddenly. Oddly, Missy's casual cruelty put her more at ease than if she'd been polite and friendly. It made her bold.

Missy didn't reply, but as Clara moved towards her, she didn't demur either so she took it as permission. Tentatively, Clara placed her hands on Missy's shoulders, feeling the knot of tension around the nape of her neck. Experimentally, she pushed into the knot and kneaded it firmly.

Missy moaned under her hands.

Arousal shot through Clara, making her dizzy. The older woman was pressing back into her hands, soft little whimpers escaping her parted lips as she tilted her head back, eyes shut tight. Clara worked methodically, guessing what pleased Missy from the intensity of her moans, feeling the gradual release of tension in her boss's frame.

Eventually, Missy was all but reclined against Clara's chest, and she was in heaven. She had to remind herself not to make a fool of herself.

"I think I'll just fire that idiot girl and keep you chained to my desk from now on," Missy moaned, a distinctly lascivious smile on her lips. Clara's heart pounded.

"To be fair, Osgood really isn't proper masseuse material," Clara defended the mousy, little woman. She was a Masters student, she only needed the money. Not to mention, Missy terrified practically everyone so much that few dared touch her.

She didn't scare Clara. Without thinking, Clara leant in and pressed a kiss to Missy's hair, tenderness welling up inside her. She froze in horror a second later, feeling the telltale tension returning to her boss's frame. "Ummm," she stammered. "Er…um…I think I'd better go to bed. So should you…I mean…get some rest…tired…very sorry!"

Clara whipped around the desk and all but ran away, inwardly berating herself for her stupidity. She'd be job-hunting in the morning.

"Well," Missy's silken, taunting tones interrupted her mad dash as she paused in front of the office door. "Took you long enough, dear."

Clara's breath felt suspended in her lungs, as she turned slowly back to face Missy, who'd remained in her chair, one leg draped casually over the other, the purple fabric of her suit skirt riding up to display a mouth-wateringly toned thigh. One red-tipped nail tapped against Missy's temple. She stared at her in mute shock.

A cruel, pleased smile spread across Missy's lips. "Oh come, come Clara," she admonished her teasingly. "Do you really think I haven't noticed the way you've stared at me since you arrived here?"

Clara's heart jumped into her throat. "I…I don't…" she tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

Missy tsked impatiently. "All these months, and _**now**_ is the moment you finally shut up," she sighed, before rising from her chair and walking towards Clara. No, not walking, _**stalking**_. Clara mentally gulped, both thrilled and terrified by the hungry desire in Missy's face, as naked as she had a feeling she was going to be, before morning. "You have been driving me utterly insane, with those big, doe eyes of yours, that soft, bouncy hair, those luscious lips begging to be kissed…"

She stopped in front of a wide-eyed Clara, her every erotic fantasy apparently conspiring to come true tonight. Without warning, Missy reached out and slid her hand around Clara's waist, jerking her against her, before gliding her hand down over Clara's bottom and squeezing. Hard.

Clara moaned.

Missy smirked. "And that tight, cute little bottom of yours in those temptingly tight skirts," she finished, before leaning in and brushing her lips against Clara's ear. "I think it's time we did something about that."

Clara shuddered, her eyes drifting closed involuntarily, as she arched into Missy's arms. "You always left me coffee, when I fell asleep at my desk," she whispered.

"Thought the mushy stuff might help win you over," Missy told her coolly. "Make no mistake, Miss Oswald. If we do this, you will be mine and mine alone. I never share, capiche?"

Clara thought for a moment, mind racing. Fear and desire clashed in a heady whirl, and in reality, she was already too far gone to back away now. As Amy had said, she had it bad.

"Fair enough," she replied firmly, seeing triumph flare in Missy's usually cold blue eyes. Feeling her usual boldness return, she leant in and kissed her with all the lust she'd been concealing for six months. Missy moaned, but quickly retook control of their kiss, her tongue sensually caressing her own, teasing her into a game of thrust and parry, until Clara was putty in her arms.

Missy had a penthouse above the office. As their kiss ended, lips still brushing as neither was keen to stop touching the other, Clara recalled that particular fact as a slow, lazily seductive smile spread across Missy's lips.

"Come to bed," she whispered, her voice transformed into a husky Scottish brogue, turning Clara's legs to jelly. Her hands tightly clasped in Missy's, Clara wondered what she'd done in a previous life to get this lucky.

* * *

 _Prompt #5: "_ _Wait a minute. Are you jealous?_ _"_

 _To be continued…_


	5. Prompt 5: Wait, are you jealous?

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

* * *

Prompt# 5: "Wait, are you jealous?"

Clara couldn't believe she had let her mates talk her into this.

Sure, they'd been badgering her to 'get back on that horse' now it had been eighteen months since Danny's death, (Laura had been spending far too much time in Texas, hence the awful cowboy-Western platitudes constantly escaping her vocal chords), but in-between work, her travels with the Doctor and well…other things, dating again was the furthest thing from her mind.

As if she even could. She hadn't been lying when she told the Doctor there was only two men for her. As much as she missed Danny, for five minutes a day just like he told- ordered- her to do, she was truly content and fulfilled in the platonic but intensely loving relationship she had with the Doctor.

Of course, she had needs, like most people, but she didn't need to date for that. Especially not right now…

Clara pulled her thoughts away from that particular avenue, just in case she started blushing and her date for the night mistook it for encouragement. Or, heaven forbid, a sign that she actually liked him!

He was a decent enough bloke, handsome in that ordinary way, steady job, good prospects. Sweet, attentive, interested. But just so boring.

She supposed an ex-soldier turned Maths teacher and intergalactic punk rocker/rebel Time Lord had ruined her for normal men. That, and the other thing…

Clara sighed, cupping her chin in one hand as Mr. Decent-And-Boring droned on and on about his gap year spent backpacking around Asia. He'd taken her to a very proper, high-class establishment in the City. It wasn't a patch on robbing a bank. She supposed it was a sign of her decaying sanity, that that thought didn't even worry her anymore.

She was staunchly refusing to give in to the urge to take a very large swig of her wine - pinot grigio, serviceable but bland, she'd been rather spoiled lately - and let her eyes roam around the restaurant.

She glimpsed a flash of madcap purple and dark curl, and sat upright from her lethargic slump. Oh God, not here…

"Hey, you okay?" Mr. Decent-And-Boring asked, concernedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Clara muttered, finally giving in to the urge to take a big gulp of wine. She practically drained the glass. "I think I just need to use the ladies' room!"

She didn't give her date time to reply, eyes tracking that flash of purple through the crowd of diners towards the bathrooms. She knew she'd hear her. Gallifreyan hearing, God she hated it.

Clara found herself self-consciously tugging down the skirt of her dress as she skipped between tables, feeling the admiring glances of both male and female diners as she passed. She was wearing a particularly form-fitting dress that ended just above her knees, not too daring but hardly something her Granny would wear. She didn't want to give the poor man false hope, after all.

She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to encourage this either. This, the other thing in her life, the thing she couldn't entirely explain or justify, this twisted parody of an actual relationship.

Her thing with Missy.

* * *

Just as Clara went to turn down the corridor to the toilets, she felt her arm snatched in a tight, icy hold. She was dragged sideways into a supply cupboard, dark and claustrophobic. After that terrifying experience in the Dalek, thanks to Missy, she'd been having issues with small, dark, enclosed spaces in recent weeks.

Just as Clara felt her heart rate start to rise, her eyes blindly searching the impenetrable darkness surrounding her, she felt lips pressing hungrily against her own.

Gladly, Clara pushed aside her panic and fell into the kiss. A distinctly feminine moan welled up against her lips, as Clara blindly groped in the dark, feeling her way across a shoulder, then a neck, fabric giving way to soft, cool skin and then into familiar silken, tightly bound curls. The other hand she used to search for the light switch.

Clara felt herself pressed back into something hard and cold, uncomfortably digging into her shoulder blades and thighs. A hand slid up Clara's thigh, her hand pausing in its search for the lights as a shiver raced down her spine. The lips accosting hers abruptly left, but Clara could barely manage more than a moan as the hand on her thigh disappeared, to be replaced by a skirted leg roughly pressing between hers, a hand materialising around the nape of her neck, tipping it back. Teeth rasped against her jaw, before trailing lower, an achingly familiar voice echoing in the sultry darkness.

"Have you ever fantasised about being dragged into a cupboard for a steamy liasion with a complete stranger?" the voice asked, as Clara frantically searched for that light switch with urgent fingers. She found it, and flicked it.

Doe brown met icy blue, as a familiar, predatory smile spread across scarlet-painted lips. "Well, maybe not a stranger…" Missy murmured seductively.

"Missy," Clara gasped, half in relief, half in exasperation. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a girl drop in for a quickie with her lover?" the Time Lady replied, snaring Clara's hands and pinning them to the metal shelving behind her. Clara felt her pulse quicken to a sprint, her heart pounding.

"We're not lovers," she gasped as Missy rocked her hips into Clara. Whatever they were, love didn't come into it. "Why are you really here?"

"Oh poppet, you wound these tender hearts of mine," Missy replied mockingly.

"I thought we agreed to meet later," Clara continued, trying hard to think clearly through the morass of lust Missy was quickly immersing her in. Her teeth were nipping at the sensitive skin under Clara's jaw, and she fought to hold in a moan.

"Boring," Missy whined, pouting as she raised her head to stare at Clara. "Aren't you glad I came along to save you from Mr. Dull-And-Boring?"

Her thoughts eerily echoed Clara's own. "He's not dull, he's…decent," she protested weakly. "And glad's not exactly the way I'd phrase it."

"Whatever," Missy replied, returning her attention to Clara's neck, laying a trail of biting kisses down its length. "Is that why you're so…fetchingly dressed?"

"I like to look good," Clara scoffed. "I only went out with him to get my friends off my back."

A thought occurred to her then, and it was both disquieting and rather amusing. "Wait, are you jealous?" she asked, incredulous.

"Hah! Jealous, me?" Missy snorted. "Over what? A pudding-brained ape attempting one of your bizarre mating rituals? That's the funniest thing I've heard all century."

But Clara had become distinctly better at reading the Mistress since those hectic hours on Skaro. She could recognise when she was angry, afraid, calculating, suspicious. When she was happy, sad, or lonely.

A particularly hard bite to her neck reinforced Clara's suspicions. Missy was jealous, and a jealous Missy didn't bode well for anyone in the restaurant. God knows, Clara barely survived her jealousy when it was turned on her after they'd saved the Doctor on Skaro.

That Missy had nothing to be jealous about was beside the point. She wasn't remotely interested in Mr. Dull-Boring-And-Decent. Also the fact that Clara should be either running screaming from the building, or seeking therapy, at the thought that Missy's jealousy was actually rather amusing and slightly adorable was beside the point too.

Luckily Clara knew the most expedient way out of this too. She leant her head down, so her lips brushed Missy's ear and moaned. She felt a shudder rush through the Time Lady, and did it again, adding a nip to her ear for good measure. It worked.

Missy's lips were on hers again a second later, and although she wouldn't let her have her hands, Clara took full advantage, pressing herself wantonly against Missy, moaning into their kiss. Every single gesture, every kiss and caress from Missy screamed 'Mine, mine, mine', and although they needed to have a talk about that - Clara belonged to no one, she wasn't a toy to be owned - it was also making her hotter and wetter than she'd been in her life before.

When Missy finally deigned to let Clara breathe, she let her head fall back to rest against the metal shelving. "Mistress," she gasped, almost choking down air. The things that woman could do with her tongue…

"This place is a drag," Missy smirked, somewhat placated by how helpless Clara was in her arms. But the flush in her cold skin and the reciprocal dampness Clara could feel against her thigh betrayed her own arousal. "Let's go somewhere else for dessert."

Clara both wanted to groan in despair at that innuendo - seriously?- and moan in anticipation. She settled for something between the two, reaching up to kiss Missy one last time before she forced their lips to part. "Fine. Meet you at home in twenty?" she asked. "You're going to have to let my hands go if you want me to ditch my date."

Missy smirked, satisfied. "But you do look so delicious like that," she purred, releasing Clara's hands only to trail her nails down the soft skin of Clara's forearms. Clara had a sneaking position she knew what horrendously decadent and sensual position she'd be forced into tonight to placate Missy.

She could hardly wait.

* * *

Clara bolted from the cupboard as soon as Missy stepped back, lest she give in to the temptation to just stay in that cupboard with her, and finish what they started. But it had no lock, and while Clara liked experimenting, exhibitionism was still a bit outside her comfort zone.

She charmed and cajoled her way through ditching Mr. Dull-Decent-And-Boring, smiling prettily and making up a simple lie about a family emergency and needing to rush home. She even distracted him long enough to slip her half of the bill onto the table and left him smiling. Not bad, Oswald.

As Clara turned away from him, her coat draped over one arm, she spotted the familiar flare of a vortex manipulator's dematerialisation and a flash of purple, in the corridor where the cupboard had been. She smiled as she walked outside into the chilly night air, not regretting dumping her date for even a nanosecond, however nice he'd been.

She had far more tantalising prospects for dessert.

* * *

 _Prompt #6: "Is there a reason you_ _'_ _re naked in my bed?_ _"_

 _To be continued…_


	6. Prompt 6: Is there a reason?

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **Ok, so this is canon-compliant…ish. Basically, The Witch's Familiar happened but Missy didn't try to trick the Doctor into shooting Clara. So this is post-Before The Flood.**

* * *

Prompt #6: 'Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?'

Clara stumbled down the corridor to her bedroom, the gentle blue light of the Tardis throwing dim shadows across her path. Today had been one hell of a day, with ghosts and underwater bases, and alien warlords and almost losing the Doctor. _**Again**_.

They were getting into a pattern, and Clara really wanted a break. Every five minutes, it felt like one of them was finding themselves in potentially fatal danger with no way out.

Which led to the other part of her life currently keeping her awake at night. Missy.

After she'd rushed off to find the Doctor, leaving Clara trapped in that Dalek casing, she gone after her as quickly as she could, ignoring the rush of terror as the city had started shaking around her. When she finally found them, the Doctor had skidded to a halt, eyes narrowed in rage and intent, and Clara had feared then. She'd shouted and screamed, but the armour wouldn't let her speak properly.

A part of her wondered if that had been Missy's plan. To trap her inside, then trick the Doctor into thinking she was an ordinary Dalek and destroying her. She'd cursed herself, hating that despite everything the Time Lady had done, all the blood her hands had been soaked with, that Clara had let her guard down. She'd _trusted_ her, almost.

She still trusted her, despite it all. Today, she'd known. Missy had guessed, before the Doctor and Clara, when they both thought that the Doctor would die, that the ghost was a hologram, that the stasis chamber didn't contain an alien warlord. And she'd let the pair of them sweat it out, watching them with a coy, knowing little smile that Clara had wanted to smack straight off the moment she realised that Missy had known all along.

She'd enjoyed playing with them.

Clara knew why the Doctor had insisted that Missy accompany them after Skaro. He could have dropped her off at any point in Time and Space she'd chosen, but he hadn't. He wanted to keep an eye on her.

Clara still wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. At least then, Missy could get on with her scheming out of sight, and out of mind until absolutely necessary. At least then, Clara wouldn't have to deal with her conflicting emotions towards the psychotic Time Lady.

It was still just looks, the odd touch here and there. Clara had noticed that Missy was incredibly tactile, in polar opposition to the Doctor, and the Time Lady apparently like nothing more than to run the very tips of her fingernails down Clara's arm without warning, or brushing against her when they all stood together at the console. And an unnerving penchant for shoving her against walls.

Admittedly, being crushed against a wall comprised of squelch-y Dalek mush hadn't helped, but…Missy shoving her against a wall hadn't been the unnerving bit. Having to scrub decomposing Dalek out of her favourite jacket hadn't been the unnerving bit.

The unnerving bit had come later that night, knowing Missy was onboard and Clara's mind resolutely returned to that moment, as she lay in bed. Feeling the woman's statuesque body against hers, so much cooler than humans, the four-beat of her hearts pounding hard enough for Clara to feel against her breasts. The softness of her hair where she'd stood so close to her, close enough that her cheek pressed against Clara's when she turned her face away from the exploding Dalek.

The unnerving bit was that Clara had _liked_ it. Which, added to the trusting thing, made Clara finally question her own sanity.

 _She still kept you in the dark, even when she guessed what the Doctor had done before he even thought it himself. She was still playing with you…_ The more reasonable side of Clara interjected her fevered remembrances, and she sighed, mentally shaking herself.

The crux of the matter was, despite how dangerous Missy was and how angry Clara had felt when she realised that Missy had known all along, despite how certain Clara was that this could only end in tears, it was going to end a certain way sooner or later. The tension between them was so thick, even the Doctor, emotionally clueless and blinkered as he was, had sensed it. Of course, he interpreted it as bickering, but if even the Doctor could tell something was up between the two of them…

 _At least he didn't suggest 'some alone time' to patch things up, eh you old cow?_ Clara thought with an affectionate half-smile, as the ancient ship whirred and hummed around her at the memory. She reached her bedroom and pushed the door open.

And stopped, frozen in shock.

Missy lay in Clara's bed, half-tangled in the sheets, one long leg extended across the coverlet. That in itself was surprising, but that hadn't caused Clara to stop dead in her tracks. Missy was naked.

And her hair was down.

And in the months since Missy had come aboard, Clara could honestly claim to have never seen the Time Lady's hair in any other state than its usual chaotic, perfectly arranged coiffure. Now it tumbled across her pillows in a wild mess of waves and ringlets, almost black in the dim lighting of her room. It made Clara's hands literally itch to play with it.

 _Of all the things to focus on…I think the fact she's stark naked would be the best place to start…!_ a voice worryingly like the Doctor's echoed in her head, as Clara's eyes left the stunning sight of Missy's unleashed hair, and down to the skin and curves tauntingly displayed between swathes of bed sheet.

Her eyes were closed, but she stirred and yawned theatrically. Clara wasn't fooled, she had to have been waiting for her. "Oh…" Missy paused as she stretched luxuriantly, eyes fixed on Clara. "Clara dear. I was wondering where you'd got to."

"Got chased down a corridor by a holographic leopard," Clara quipped, brow furrowed. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

"Close the door, dear, there's a draught," Missy replied lazily, as Clara abruptly remembered that the door was still open, propped by her foot, and she let it close softly. "And your mouth. Honestly, it's large enough to catch flies."

"I asked you a question," Clara replied firmly, determined not to lose control in whatever new game Missy was concocting.

"Oh really, did you?" Missy rolled her eyes. "Must have been a boring one."

Clara hauled in a deep breath at that, noting the way the Time Lady's eyes darted down to her chest when she did so. That helped her patience, somewhere. "It bears repeating," the human retorted. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed? Or is this just for kicks? Wait, did the Tardis delete your bedroom too?"

"If you've quite finished with that infantile litany…" Missy drawled superciliously, eyes raking Clara's form hungrily. "Even your ape-brain must be capable of discerning why…"

Clara tsked. "Insulting me isn't going to get you any," she remarked coolly. "Might want to try the Doctor for that, he's apparently got some masochistic tendencies."

"Ah yes, I've noticed that," Missy nodded, brow furrowed in thought, before it cleared and she shrugged, eyes now focussed back on Clara. "Well, what else would you expect? Flowers and violins and candlelight? Me being _**nice**_ to you?!"

"Perish the thought," Clara retorted dryly, but incidentally Missy was right. She'd never expect that from her, and it would just unnerve her more. "Would you like me to go get some soap and scrub those words from your mouth?"

Missy chuckled throatily, throwing her head back in her mirth. Exposing the long, sweeping line of her throat, making Clara lick her suddenly dry lips. When she lowered her eyes back to Clara, she smirked knowingly, and raised a red-painted finger, crooking it. "Come here, and leave the clothes behind."

Slowly, Clara began to do as she was told. She slipped off the jacket, feeling its weight as it crumpled to the floor, then she raised a hand to the buttons of her dress, taking a slow step forward as she did so. Missy swallowed, and Clara inwardly smiled.

Missy wasn't the only one skilled at seduction. Clara could flirt with a mountain range after all, and Missy was no mountain range. She was a pushover.

Missy's icy blue eyes were hungry and anticipatory, as she watched Clara simultaneously disrobe and move closer to the bed, until she was naked herself and staring down at Missy coolly, as if awaiting her approval. The Time Lady smirked and made her move.

So did Clara.

Missy found herself flat on her back, wrists pinned to the pillows beneath them. Clara's body was stretched unashamedly along hers, her human heat burning through the thin bed sheets. Clara could see she'd knocked her off-kilter, that her previous compliance had been interpreted as submission. Not tonight.

"You let the Doctor and I both think he was going to die, when you guessed it all along," she stated quietly, but firmly. "You played with us."

Mentally, Missy cursed her misstep. She'd underestimated her human. "Maybe," she purred, to cover her mistake. "But it all worked as it should. Neither of you were in any danger."

"You were callous and arrogant," Clara pronounced, a cold look in her eye. Despite that, her body was reacting to the cool weight of Missy's beneath her, and her blood was afire with excitement at the thought that she'd succeeded in getting one over on Missy. "We're not toys for you to play with."

"So is that to be my penance?" Missy replied, biting her lip as the suspicion bloomed in her head. "Am I to be your toy tonight?"

Clara snorted. "You're definitely not going to be on top tonight," she murmured, lowering her head to Missy's, brushing their lips together teasingly. "Possibly ever."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Missy replied, leaning up to bite Clara's lower lip, before yanking her wrists free and pulling Clara down to meet her kiss. Both women moaned at the feel of their bodies meeting fully, as Missy squirmed her way out of the sheets, and Clara let her twine their legs together. Missy's fingers raked through her hair, displacing the band she'd used that morning to scrape her hair back into some semblance of a ponytail. Anchoring one hand beside Missy's head, she concentrated on the kiss and the feel of Missy's curls as she sank the other hand into that wild, untamed mass.

Clara could feel her trying to take control of the kiss, but she refused to give in, using every trick in the book and then some. She teased her with her tongue, always drawing back when Missy tried to lure her in, always giving her just enough to keep her interested, keep her absorbed in their kiss, but never letting her have the upper hand. Missy was so deeply immersed, she didn't even notice when Clara pinned her hands back to the pillow, as she nipped her lip playfully.

By the time Clara drew back, Missy was a writhing, mewling mess beneath her. Clara was little better, but she was determined to retain control, this time. "And you said _I_ was the puppy," she gasped, panting. Missy's look of pleading desire turned into a snarl, and Clara laughed. "You're definitely a puppy. Or maybe a kitten." She felt the sting of Missy's nails against her hands, and smirked in triumph. "Yep, definitely a kitten."

"Oooh, you're going to regret that," Missy hissed, a fell promise in her eyes. Clara giggled.

"Probably," she shrugged nonchalantly, already leaning in for another kiss. "But not tonight. Tonight, it's _**my**_ turn to play, kitten."

Missy looked ready to murder as Clara kissed her, but she pressed back into the kiss with a fierce moan, apparently giving in.

 _Well, what d'you know? Wonder will never cease…_ Clara thought dazedly, as she set to work ensuring that Missy was incapable of incoherent speech for the remainder of the night.

* * *

 _Prompt #7: 'I almost lost you.'_

 _To be continued…_


	7. Prompt 7: I almost lost you

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **You might consider this is a follow-on from Prompt #5, or at least continuing in the same AU. An 'enemies with benefits'-style-relationship-but-not-really-our-girls-are-in-denial type situation. Apologies for the lack of updates on 'What We Deserve' and 'My Clara'. I'm one week into a two week work experience placement at a high school, so don't have much time or energy for updates during the week. But expect updates for both over the next couple of days!**

* * *

Prompt #7: 'I almost lost you.'

Clara was in big trouble, this time.

Granted, trouble was practically a requisite part of being the Doctor's friend and companion. Without it, nothing would ever happen in the first place. Without it, Clara's life would have continued on in its boring, everyday mundane forever. Sure, she might have been content, even happy. With Danny by her side. And knowing nothing of the universe waiting, endless and seductive, on her doorstep.

But that wasn't her life, and it hadn't been for awhile. So Clara was used to trouble, in fact she had come to relish it. But right now, hanging from a bar with her hands tied over her head, her feet dangling and her eyes and mouth obscured by tight wads of foul-tasting fabric, not so much. She'd lost the feeling in her arms ages ago.

And the worst of it…she knew the Doctor didn't know where she was. She hadn't been taken on one of their adventures; she hadn't been kidnapped from his side. They'd taken her from her flat, on one of her short breaks from the Tardis, and Clara got the feeling they hadn't intended on leaving the Doctor any clues to find her. At least, not until it was too late.

Clara really didn't want to think about the implications of that last, morbid thought. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd been tied up and suspended off the ground by a psychopath. At least this time, she was the right way up. Small mercies and all that.

No one had spoken to her, no one had tried to interrogate or even threaten her. Were it not for their creative, and painful, incarceration methods, Clara would have almost been disappointed. That alone had told her it wasn't the Mistress.

She'd suspected the renegade Time Lady, of course. It would be just like her sick sense of humour to drug her unconscious, kidnap her somewhere remote in all of Time and Space, and play games with her. They'd done it enough times.

But while Missy liked it rough, usually reducing Clara to a whimpering wreck of hair and hormones with telepathy and that talented tongue of hers, not even Missy would tie her up and leave her hanging for hours.

Not to mention…she still had her clothes on.

No, Clara had the feeling this wasn't anything to do with the Mistress, not this time. She had no doubt that was aimed at the Doctor, but…they wouldn't give him an opportunity to snatch her away. This was punishment, for him, so he might eventually find her in months or even years, after they'd done whatever they wanted to her.

If Clara had had the energy, she would have shuddered at the thought.

Just as trouble was practically an everyday occurrence in the time-travelling business, torture was also occasionally part of that equation. Thankfully not often, but more often than Clara liked. Usually though, either the Doctor saved her or she managed to contrive her own escape.

Not this time.

Blindfolded, gagged and slowly losing all sensation in her body, Clara's hearing had been elevated to almost painful levels of sensitivity. She strained to hear the tiniest sound, listening for footsteps against the floor, or the rasp of breathing. Anything at all.

She heard nothing.

It made Clara want to scream. The silence was dreadful, oppressive. It stretched her nerves taut, almost to breaking point. She'd have taken a Dalek over this empty silence, over this awful, blind helplessness. If she was going to die, she wanted to meet her death head-on; eyes open and without saliva leaking down her jaw from a saturated gag.

And then…a noise. At last.

Clara tried to make a noise in return, although the gag prevented speech. She tried to move, to thrash but she was so numb after untold hours of just hanging there, she couldn't.

Suddenly, her stomach dropped as she was slowly lowered to the ground until her toes just scraped it if she stretched hard. The noise came closer, and it turned into harsh breathing and heavy footsteps. Clara squirmed in her bonds, trying to hear, trying vainly to see through her blindfold.

Without warning, a clawlike hand gripped her hair and neck, yanking her head back. Clara screamed through the gag at the sudden pressure and movement, her muscles shrieking in protest. She tried to thrash, to kick out, but her foot met only hard muscle and what felt like armour, and it made no difference.

She felt a burning pain as something, she'd wager a needle, was inserted into her neck. The burning turned white-hot, as if infused with scalding, molten metal and Clara screamed. Whatever she'd been injected with, it coursed through her bloodstream like a virus, infecting her with pure agony.

Clara barely noticed the fact that her feet once more left the floor, as she was hoisted back up into the air, kicking and thrashing against the pain currently obliterating her nervous system.

Panic began to follow the pain, and with it terror bloomed. She didn't know who had kidnapped her, or what they'd just injected into her but she had a pretty good idea she wasn't going to survive it.

 _No, no, no…not like this!_

The thought flitted through Clara's pain-hazed brain, but she couldn't do anything. She was helpless.

Then, through the pain, Clara heard the sound of screams and explosions, the tiniest glimmer of violent orange and red light searing her eyes. She heard the explosions continue, the screams of agony echoing her own, muffled as they were by the gag. She was in too much pain to hope it was who she hoped it would be.

Running footsteps.

Then, she felt hands on her ankles, small, delicate and cold. Suspicion bloomed, beneath the pain, but she couldn't focus enough to concentrate. She was in too much pain.

And then a voice. "Clara, my Clara," a feminine, Scottish burr breathed somewhere below her. Missy.

Clara felt herself lowered to the ground, and her knees crumpled, unable to support her weight. Suddenly, the blindfold was torn away, and she fell to the ground as her arms were suddenly released from their chains. She felt deceptively slender arms, so much stronger than a human's, catch her halfway and lower her to the ground. The gag was removed tenderly, and Clara levered her eyes up, forcing her will to triumph over the pain and blearily looked up at her rescuer.

"Oh my Clara, what have they done to you?" Missy knelt beside her, hands passing over Clara's clammy forehead, her entire body trembling and spasming as her muscles fought against the pain overwhelming her nerves. Clara couldn't answer, only cry out as the pain reached new heights and her head lolled in exhaustion. It could only have been an hour since she was injected, but she was already weakening.

She felt Missy tilt her head to the side, fingers gently probing the injection site. She heard her curse softly under her breath, in Gallifreyan but Clara had heard her use it often enough, in several highly interesting situations, to know it was the equivalent of an Earth expletive. "Clara, if you can hear me," Missy began, in a soft, soothing tone. "You've been injected with a slow-acting neurotoxin. It's attacking your nervous system and your internal organs."

Clara gritted her teeth against another scream and jerked her head in understanding.

"Lucky for you, I have the antidote," Missy muttered, reaching into her inner coat pocket and rummaging frantically. Her movements were jerky and violent, and Clara even thought she heard the sound of ripping at one point. "Never know when they come in handy, just in case and all that jazz."

Clara supposed it was just another quirk of Missy's madness that she actually carried antidotes to poisons on her person, just in case. She felt a sharp sting in her neck, into the artery but the pain barely registered against the agony of the toxin.

The pain slowed, ebbed and Clara breathed freer. Her entire body felt wrung out, and her voice was weak and hoarse when she turned her head towards Missy, the Time Lady's hand gently stroking back her sweat-drenched hair. Her expression was tender and concerned, but her eyes betrayed her. They promised blood and violence, an kind of mad urgency in them as they scanned Clara's face while she waited for the antidote to take effect.

"What…happened…?" Clara asked, her voice a mere rasp. "How…did…you find me?"

"You were kidnapped," Missy told her candidly. "As revenge against the Doctor. They were going to leave you for him to find. I found you first, before they got to finish what they started."

Clara noted the pure, mad terror in Missy's eyes and shuddered. "You…killed…them then?"

"Yep," Missy replied, popping the 'p'. "Every single one of them."

"Always…have…to go…OTT…" Clara chuckled huskily, coughing slightly. Missy rolled her eyes derisively.

"They had it coming," she growled, as her face hardened and her eyes flashed icily. "I almost lost you."

"I'm not yours to lose," Clara replied weakly, her heart pounding as Missy looked back down at the human cradled in her arms. Once again, she glimpsed the emotion in them and felt her heart flutter in response. Damn.

Missy apparently saw Clara's realisation in her face, as triumph flashed in her eyes. Clara mustered up the energy to glare at the Time Lady, as the triumph faded and then Missy did something Clara would never have expected. She bent down so their foreheads brushed tenderly, and she whispered against her mouth, "Aren't you?"

Then she kissed her, sweat, drool, stale breath and blood and all. Clara clung on with what little strength she retained, and begrudgingly admitted she might have a point.

* * *

 _Prompt #8: 'Wanna bet?'_

 _To be continued…_


	8. Prompt 8: Wanna bet?

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **So AU this time. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Prompt #8: 'Wanna bet?'

Clara hated the early morning commute. She really, honestly did. Being cramped into tiny commuter trains, with no seats left by the time they managed to get on one and that frantic rush when they reached Victoria just to get off the train and down to the tube, to be squashed in _again_ with the rest of the sweaty sardines traipsing to work.

Her girlfriend had offered her to move in with her. Well, not so much as offered but _demanded_ she move in. They'd only been going out six weeks; it was far too soon to be contemplating co-habiting. She'd only just got used to introducing her mad, unpredictable sociopath of a lover as her _girlfriend_.

Most nights they stayed in Missy's Canary Wharf apartment anyway, but Clara had been looking after her Gran over the weekend after a hip replacement, until her Dad and Linda got home from their cruise. It had been the longest amount of time Clara had spent away from Missy during the six weeks of their relationship, and she'd hated every minute of it. Missy too apparently, since she made the effort to come all the way out of the city to Clara's modest little studio flat on the outermost edges of Croydon. It was the closest to the city Clara could afford on her salary.

Hence the offer-slash-demand to move in with Missy and have done with it. Clara had to admit, sometimes she was seriously tempted.

She'd caught the 07:26 that ran between Southampton Central and London Victoria every weekday for five years. She still absolutely hated it. By the time it reached East Croydon, it was always packed to the ceiling with snoring commuters from every station and commuter belt town between London and the deep wilds of Hampshire, Sussex, Kent and Surrey. She shuddered at the thought; she was still a Northern girl at heart. London was as far south as she could bear.

After her stressful weekend away, stumbling into her shabby apartment gratefully on Sunday night, Clara hadn't expected to see Missy until the next morning at the earliest. She'd once claimed she would never set foot outside Central London into the wilderness of Zone 2. Clara had rolled her eyes at that typically dramatic, impractical announcement but it held true. She'd never seen hide nor hair of Missy in Croydon, and never thought she would. But Missy had been waiting there, at her flat, surprising and scaring the living daylights of her when she walked through the front door.

Hence, the fact she now had a companion. And wasn't _that_ turning out to be a trial.

Clara knew for a fact that Missy hadn't used the tube or the trains, or any other public transport, in at least a decade. She was driven everywhere by a chauffeur. So when she'd confessed she dismissed him last night while waiting for Clara, she'd been equally stunned when Missy had declared she felt like slummin' it for one day and going in to work with Clara.

Never again. Just getting her past the ticket barrier had been traumatising enough.

* * *

The train was a little less crowded than usual, but there were still no seats so Clara and Missy were forced to stand in this age of feminism and nonexistent chivalry. They stood in the clear space in front of the doors, ready to escape as soon as possible, but they'd only just left the station. Twenty minutes of hell to go.

Missy stood close to her, their hands brushing with every jolt of the train. After forty-eight hours without her, Clara found it comforting and a welcome distraction from the train.

Suddenly Missy snorted with laughter in her ear. "What?" Clara asked, one brow raised questioningly.

"Two rows down, pearl earrings and a bouffant ol' Maggie T would have been proud of," Missy whispered back. Clara surreptitiously eyed the passengers lucky enough to have snagged a seat, and spotted the woman in question.

It was a woman, looked to be in her seventies, hair perfectly coiffed and pearls gleaming in the dim morning light. She was even wearing a tweed jacket, and clutching a Daily Mail newspaper.

And staring at them with staunch disapproval in her eyes.

Clara rolled her own eyes, looking back to her girlfriend. "She's even got a copy of the Daily Mail. How stereotypical can you get?" she laughed quietly, as an evil gleam entered Missy's eyes. Clara's narrowed. "Uh oh, no you don't!"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" Missy hissed back, with a wicked grin.

"You are not going to see how long it'll take us to make her move to another carriage, just to avoid scandalising her sensibilities," Clara breathed warningly.

"Wanna bet?" Missy replied archly, with an anticipatory giggle. "Winner gets anything they want from the other."

Clara hesitated, sensing the trap, but the challenging look in the older woman's eyes was too difficult to pass up. She'd always loved a challenge.

"Fine," she breathed, long-suffering but inwardly excitement started to grow. "Your move."

Without warning, Missy reached out an arm and slid it around Clara's waist, her hand fanning across her hip over the top of her winter coat. There was a slightly feral glint to her smile now, as Clara's breath hitched. She wasn't usually a huge fan of PDAs, nor was Missy, but there was something hugely satisfying about winding up homophonic old biddies on a train. It'd been hugely entertaining with Linda.

Clara's mind raced for a counter-move. She shifted slightly so she could see their target in her peripheral vision, and smiled coyly up at Missy. She ran a finger up the line of Missy's blouse, grazing the buttons teasingly as her lover caught her breath. Affectionately, she drew the finger up Missy's torso until it reached her neck, before tucking a stray curl back behind her ear. "Is she still watching us?" Clara whispered, as she caught Missy's eye.

"Oh yes," Missy smirked, her eyes darting away and then back to Clara. "Wrinkling her nose and clutching her pearls."

"Better step up your game then," Clara smirked back. That familiar edge of wildness, of uncaring, uncompromising danger that she so loved, flared in Missy's eyes and she licked her lips. She leaned in, making Clara tense in surprise and anticipation, before she bypassed her lips and brushed her ear tauntingly.

"You might just regret that, my darling Miss Oswald," she purred against her ear, before gently biting the lobe. Clara shuddered, almost falling against her as her spine apparently lost its ability to stay upright, and a small moan escaped her.

Out the corner of her eye, she saw revulsion and disgust wash over the old lady's face. Time to step up _**her**_ game, then.

Before Missy could make another move, Clara raised her head and captured Missy's lips. It was a bold move, and one Missy clearly hadn't expected of her as she froze in shock. Clara teasingly slid her tongue against the seam of Missy's lips, until the older woman opened her mouth on a moan, and her free hand left the pole beside her to cup Clara's jaw. By their standards, it was a fairly mild, safe, chaste kiss but it clearly it was too much for the old lady's nerves.

"Disgusting!" they heard behind them. "You should be ashamed of yourselves, parading your depravity in front of decent human beings. The state of the world today…"

Missy drew back from their kiss with a flick of her tongue, before her eyes gleamed. "I win," Clara pointed out, seeing the old lady move towards them in her peripheral vision.

"Not quite," Missy replied curtly, before suddenly sweeping around Clara, and turning her back to the carriage and the morally indignant old lady. Clara felt shock stun her as Missy suddenly went down on one knee with a dramatic flourish.

"My darling, my love, my cuddly puppy," she declared in a loud voice. "I've waited and waited, and I can wait no longer. You're simply too divine-"

Clara would have rolled her eyes at how thick Missy was laying it on, but she was still too stunned by her move. She couldn't be serious…!?

"- I must have you for my own," Missy continued gushingly. "Will you marry me?"

Just then, the ticket inspector announced they'd arrived at Selhurst Station, and the old lady barged past them as the doors opened with a huff of disgust, muttering to herself. "Bingo," Missy declared, rising up off her knees. "Do close your mouth, dear, you might catch something."

"Cheat," Clara hissed, when she could speak again. She folded her arms, glaring at the opposite wall, standing away from Missy.

"Never promised to play fair, pup," Missy replied, shrugging slightly as the doors closed once more, and they were off again. Clara glanced around at their fellow passengers, but most were studiously _**not**_ looking in their direction. Clara was sure a few were looking quietly amused, even so.

Missy twined her arm with Clara's waist once more, and she didn't object. They didn't speak again, until they'd stepped out onto the platform at London Victoria.

Then Missy shocked Clara all over again. "You didn't answer my question."

Clara's head snapped around so fast, she was surprised it didn't just come off. "You weren't serious!?" she exclaimed, a strange sort of panic rising in her chest.

"Well, I didn't ask for my health," Missy retorted curtly.

"No, you asked to win a bet and get one up on me," Clara pointed out, folding her arms in annoyance.

"Yes, I did win so now you have to give me anything I want…" Missy trailed off, with a wicked grin.

"We've only been going out six weeks!" Clara yelped.

"Why waste time? I don't like hanging around," Missy replied, stepping closer to Clara and pulling her into her arms. "Clara," she whined, pouting. "I did win the bet."

Clara was finding it hard to think through the dual sensations of panic and Missy's body against hers. "I didn't mean-" she started, trying to see a way out but her girlfriend interrupted her.

"You didn't specify any limitations to the winner's demands," the older woman pointed out.

Clara mentally cursed. "You cheated, asking a question I know you don't mean just to win that stupid bet," she growled, glaring at her.

Missy huffed, seeing Clara's ill-concealed panic and unease. "Fine, you don't have to marry me…" the _not yet_ lingered between them, "…but will you move in with me now, so we never have to do this infernal commute again?"

Clara eyed her narrowly, before turning away. "I'll think about it," she muttered grudgingly, as Missy giggled in triumph and caught her hand in hers as they walked quickly away from the platform.

* * *

 _Prompt #9: 'Don't you ever do that again!'_

 _To be continued…_

 _A/N: I couldn't resist. This was partly based on a scene I witnessed on the tube, while studying in London. Hence the obvious knowledge of exactly how awful the trains and tube can be in the mornings._

 _I'm writing the next update for My Clara, I am, but it's being a pain. Missy won't co-operate, and the plot's giving me moral headaches._


	9. Prompt 9: Don't ever do that again!

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **So another AU this time, inspired by that hilarious and awesome trailer for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Oddly I can see our mad duo as a pair of Regency-Lady-Zombie-Killers. And I thought I'd try Missy's point of view this time.**

* * *

Prompt #9: 'Don't you ever do that again!'

Missy had been having a perfectly good day. As good days went, it had to be one of the best in her memory.

It started the same as any other day. Awaken early at Oakdown House; take great delight in teasing her young paramour and student from her own slumber, possibly leading to some invigorating bedridden activities, before picking off a few stray Undead, all before breakfast.

So obviously, something had to come along to ruin it all. Being summoned by the local militia to sort out an encroaching horde of Undead around Stargrove Priory, initially didn't seem like it. Missy was well-versed in disposing of those shambling, useless creatures, and her little puppy was learning fast. The owners of Stargrove Priory, a retired Army Brigadier and his daughter Miss Lethbridge-Stewart, were also a force to be reckoned with, ordinarily perfectly capable of dealing with their own Undead infestation.

Missy just knew it had to go wrong. Too much had been going well, something was bound to eventually. She was a staunch pragmatist who firmly believed in being prepared for such unsavoury circumstances.

She just hadn't prepared for _**this**_.

She'd never meant to care for the girl. At first, she'd been mildly impressed by her savage will to survive, unskilled and untrained as she was, when she first encountered her in London, tagging along after the Paternoster Gang out of boredom. Then she'd been amused by the girl's spirit and staunch refusal to bow down in the presence of her superiors. She had almost contemplated sending her away to an old friend and once-enemy, one she knew would both clash and combine with the energy and spirit of her charge nicely. But in the end, Missy was a jealous, selfish sort; she hadn't been able to resist taking the girl as both student and companion, just to see for herself what she might become, what she might coax out of her. Along the way, she had turned into quite the warrior and strategist, a consummate actress who could charm her way through the most elite circles of society without effort, and the most delightful and surprising lover Missy had ever taken.

But she'd never thought she cared for the girl.

There were a number of reasons. Firstly, the girl was an incorrigible romantic at heart with perpetual hope in the goodness of everyone, despite her rough start in life and the horror of her previous existence. Secondly, the girl was irritatingly self-assured and impudent in her own morality, never letting Missy manipulate too far or twist too much; she often argued back and insisted on a course of action, regardless of Missy's own disapprobation on the matter. And thirdly, the girl was quite impossible brave and compassionate. She could never bear to leave anyone behind who could be saved, even at threat to her own life.

All of the above ran as an endless litany through Missy's mind, as she paced outside the physician's tent. Behind them, Stargrove Priory was a smoking ruin, lately annihilated in a storm of gunpowder and fire, to prevent any possibility of the scourge spreading further. All had been going to plan, once they discovered the nest of Undead lurking in the ancient catacombs that spread underneath the 16th century house, once an escape route for hunted Catholic priests during the Reformation although the entrance to the house had long been blocked. Plans had then been made to evacuate the Priory between themselves, the Brigadier and Miss Lethbridge-Stewart.

It wasn't until Miss Lethbridge-Stewart, a famous bluestocking and renowned Undead hunter like her father, had suddenly realised that her companion Miss Osgood had been left inside, as the fuses were lit, the silly girl having rushed back inside to find the remedy she used to relieve her congested lungs, that everything truly began to go to the dogs.

Of _**course**_ her incorrigibly brave and half-wittedly selfless lover had felt the urge to rush back too. Of _**course**_ she'd used Missy's own emotions against her to make her let go. And of _**course**_ , her impossible girl had come back safe, if not entirely sound.

Which was why Missy was stuck outside the physician's tent to start with.

* * *

Miss Lethbridge-Stewart and the Brigadier waited with her, but were intelligent enough not to open their mouths. Missy didn't want brainless platitudes, she wanted her Clara. In pristine condition and back safely in their bed at Oakdown Hall, before sunset, to be precise.

If it weren't for the fact that most of the Undead were currently little more than twitching ashes, she'd have vented her rage and helplessness on them. She did not like feeling helpless. Particularly not over an insignificant girl who would probably join the ranks of the Undead before the year was out.

She growled under her breath as the thought made her grow cold with anguished terror.

Finally, _finally_ , the physician emerged from the depths of the tent and smiled at Missy and Miss Lethbridge-Stewart, wiping his bloodied hands on a towel. Missy sincerely hoped that was Osgood's blood and not Clara's.

"I've managed to stop the bleeding, Missy Osgood should be fine," he told Miss Lethbridge-Stewart and the Brigadier, before glancing towards Missy. "Miss Oswald is also on the mend. A mere cut, easily stitched, possibly some concussion. She should be excused any duties for a few days. You may see them now-"

Missy was already striding into the tent, squinting in the dim light of the lantern.

Osgood lay stretched out on a cot, her stomach tightly bandaged. Clara, on the other hand, sat on a small stool, her face still streaked in blood. There was a bloody gash extending the length of her eyebrow, neatly stitched, marring her smooth skin. Just the sight of it made Missy's blood boil.

Clara made to stand, her mouth opening to speak. Missy quickly decided she really didn't want to hear anything her paramour cared to say. Clara had almost killed herself out of sheer noble stupidity, and she had _**terrified**_ Missy, and didn't she understand that words were utterly superfluous and useless now?

As her mind raced, Missy strode across the tent, ignoring Miss Osgood's surprised squeak and the physician's exasperated exhortations to be careful, and the Brigadier's amused eyes boring into her back. They could all go hang, for all she cared.

Clara looked stunned, as Missy's hands encircled her waist and entrapped her against the stake holding the canvas around them aloft. Missy had no idea what she looked like to her young protégée, but she had no doubt she looked a sight, with gunpowder marking her cheek and her curls annoyingly askew, her long purple riding coat flapping against her legs.

She set her lips to Clara's, desperate to make sure she still felt warm and strong and so, so _**alive**_ , free of the taint of the Scourge, to know that she hadn't lost her and she was still alive. So, so alive.

Clara, for her part, felt no reticence as she pressed herself eagerly into her Mistress's arms, burying her cold hands in Missy's hair. Despite her need to stay furious at her impossible girl for needlessly frightening her, something in Clara's kiss felt so conciliatory that she felt herself soften. She mentally sighed; she was going soft. Or just getting old.

Missy wasn't sure which one horrified her more.

Behind them, Osgood was still babbling away in shock, the physician muttering about propriety and concussions, while behind them all, the Brigadier and his daughter watched with quiet amusement.

Missy pressed Clara back against the stake, her greedy mouth reaffirming all that her senses had accepted but her mind was struggling to take in. All she could remember was the blood and the smoke and the flames, the dying screams of the Undead, the terrified whinnying of horses. And Clara, atop her mount, Osgood clinging to her waist, emerging from the noisome fog. Clara, bloodied. Clara, alive.

Clara finally forced their lips to part, sucking in air hungrily. She cocked one brow, and winced as she realised it was the injured one. "Are you trying to kill me by suffocation now?" she inquired archly, her quip rather ruined by the breathiness of her voice.

Missy wasn't in the mood for smart words. "Don't you ever do that again!" she snarled darkly. Clara snorted.

"What, save peoples' lives?" she retorted, with all the air of an old argument. "It's a habit."

"A habit I intend to break, for both our sakes," Missy said firmly, with all the promise of a fight in her icy eyes, vitality returning as her mind slowly accepted that Clara was safe and well. "Now, come. The physician prescribed bed rest, so bed rest you shall have."

She clamped one hand around Clara's waist, ignoring the physician's protests as she drew her out of the tent, and towards their waiting mounts. She spotted the insufferably twinkling gleam in the Brigadier's eyes. "Not a word, Lethbridge-Stewart," she growled under her breath, as they passed.

"Indubitably, Lady Saxon," he concurred. "Incidentally, I shall inform Captain Harkness of your absence from duty for a few days."

Missy barely paused to convey her reluctant thanks. As they neared the horses, Clara tugged at her arm, the hem of her riding coat splattered with mud and gore. It caught Missy's eye, making her feel cold again but she refused to succumb. Not now, not with Clara so obviously annoyed and ruffled by her highhandedness.

"That was rude," she declared haughtily. "We should at least report to Jack."

"You, my dear, will not be setting foot outside our bed for the next week," Missy informed her coolly, but her gaze was anything but. Even in the slowly dimming light of the afternoon, she could see the blush on her Clara's cheeks.

"I don't think that was what the physician meant by bed rest," Clara replied sarcastically.

"Then he's an unimaginative dunce," Missy remarked silkily. "Now, come!"

Clara rolled her eyes, but did as she was bid, following after her all-too fractious and possessive Mistress. Really, she was too adorable sometimes.

* * *

 _Prompt #10: 'Teach me how to play?_ _'_

 _ **A/N: For the interested, or just plain geeky like me, Oakdown is the House to which the Master/Missy belongs on Gallifrey, Stargrove is the name of the house used as the priory in 'The Pyramids of Mars' an excellent Fourth Doctor story, and of course the site of the priory is later used as UNIT HQ in the Multi-Doctor story 'The Three Doctors'.**_

 _ **Who else is excited for the next episode? Also those scripts released on the BBC archive, some of those Missy lines!? There'd better be deleted scenes on the series boxset, or I'm hunting Moffat down. At least we know why Michelle was doing her mad little 'Time War' dance in the Missy and Clara video...**_

 _To be continued…_


	10. Prompt 10: Teach me how to play?

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

* * *

Prompt #10: 'Teach me how to play?'

Clara watched the figure at the piano, sitting so prim and properly at the instrument, as an entrancing melody echoed around the Tardis library.

She watched, fascinated, as long slender digits capped by bloody scarlet danced across the keys, barely grazing some, languidly caressing others, while the next note was played from the fierce blow against the ebony. They spread across, like some nightmarish, exotic spider, always tripping from one ivory key to the next, from ebony to ivory, from high to low, in a dizzying, chaotic rush that left Clara breathless.

Clara had tried so hard to keep hating her. She tried so, so hard, just as she tried to keep missing Danny five minutes a day, and she tried to keep running, and a thousand and one things she had tried to do. And failed spectacularly.

Watching Missy from the shadows, watching her hands as they waltzed over the keys, Clara comprehended the depth of her failure. Oh, she still hated her but the hate no longer held sway. Missy did, and she was drawing her in, into a game as intricate and endless as the sonata she conducted at the keys of the piano.

As chocolate brown eyes met those that resembled a glacier, but for the flashes of heat and rage deep within, Clara inhaled raggedly and took the first step from the shadows. There was a question in those eyes, between the flashes of fire and ire, a question that Clara's fiercely defiant soul couldn't help but answer.

 _If you can't beat 'em, then join 'em?_

"Teach me how to play?" Clara asked. Missy smiled, even as she reached out one pale, spidery hand to the girl. An offering from the devil, and Clara fell gladly.

* * *

 _Prompt #11: "Don_ _'_ _t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!_ _"_

 _To be continued…_


	11. Prompt 11: Don't you dare

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **So this will be in the same vein as the other established couple!AU prompts.**

* * *

Prompt #11: "Don't you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!"

"What the hell…?" Clara coughed and spluttered as she awoke with a faceful of freezing cold snow. She forced herself to turn over, burying her hands in an icy blanket that made her skin sting. She was surrounded by snow on every side, her stinging eyes opening to find a horizon-less vista stretching out before her, punctured only by a few copses of what looked to be fur trees in the distance. The only indication Clara had that this wasn't some arctic expanse on Earth was the moons hanging low in the sky above her, while a dim blue sun lent a diamond glint to the snow from far away.

Clara groaned as she forced herself onto hands and knees, fingers scraping against snow and a hard covering of ice underneath, slippery and unstable. As she struggled to get herself into a more dignified position, she tried to remember how she got there. She'd been in her classroom, marking that week's homework, the first of the new term…

At that moment, Clara recognised the chunky leather strap around her wrist, as well as the residual nausea coiling in her gut, and cursed under her breath. "Missy…!"

"Coo-ie!" her tormentor/lover's horribly familiar voice rang out across the snow, carrying easily in that deserted expanse. Clara's head snapped out, and her eyes widened at the evil look in Missy's eyes and the perfectly rounded ball of ice and snow in her hand. "Look who decided to wake up! And just in time too…"

"Don't you dare throw that snowba-!" Clara scrambled to get upright, or at least scrape enough snow together in her hand to defend herself with, but her foot slipped out from underneath her as she tried to pull herself upright. "Goddamnit!"

The mild expletive left her lips just as Missy's projectile flew over her head, barely missing her, and she landed once more back on the ice. She'd twisted as she fell, planning to fall on her much better cushioned back side than her rather more fragile front. She liked her nose where it was, thank you very much.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs, as an upside-down view of Missy's boots and hemline filled her field of vision. She was pouting, and the icy wintry air had brought out a scarlet tint to her pale cheeks. "Aren't you enjoying my Christmas gift, puppy?"

"Christmas?" Clara gasped. "Are you nuts?"

"Okay, fine. My rather _belated_ Christmas gift-" Missy's pout was deepening.

"Belated? It's already September again," Clara replied archly, still fighting for breath, as she levered herself up onto her elbows.

" _ **Fine**_. My rather belated yet also early Christmas gift," Missy retorted pointedly, before her pout disappeared again, to be replaced by a disquieting grin that made Clara's skin crawl. "Well, puppy? Isn't this much better than all that dreary marking?"

A slow smile crept over Clara's lips, as her hand curled into the snow beneath her. Without warning she pulled a fistful from the snow bank underneath her and flung it into Missy's face. "Tag! You're it!" she squealed, already scrambling to her feet and rushing away as Missy spluttered and batted the snow from her eyes.

"Oh, puppy, it's on!" she screeched, already rushing after her recalcitrant puppy. She dodged the next volley, well-aimed and tricksy just like her Clara, before scooping up her own arsenal and taking aim. It wasn't much trouble to place a well-aimed snowball against Clara's flimsy work skirt, making the human squeal and yelp adorably as she disappeared over a snow drift. Silence fell, and Missy waited for the next attack, superior senses primed and ready, the ball in her hand hardening into ice in the cold wind that had started to blow across the steppes she had landed them on.

There were fissures, caused by long erosion by the ancient glaciers that made up this desolate little planet…

Concern welled as Missy dropped her snowball and started forward to the lip of the drift as Clara's name broke from her lips. "Clara!"

Icy shock punched the air from Missy's lungs a moment later, as a surfeit of freezing cold snow was stuffed down the back of her coat and blouse, making her howl in surprise.

"And I thought I was the puppy?" Clara said between gusts of laughter as she eyed the almighty Mistress of all Evil, dancing from foot to foot and wriggling as she tried to dislodge the snowball Clara had lodged down her back. Her sides were aching from laughing so hard. Surreptitiously, she took a quick video with her phone. She was so showing the Doctor when she got back. And Kate. "This is up there with the Doctor's giraffe dance."

Quickly she stowed the device away when she spotted Missy seemingly finish shrugging off her attack, baleful intent in her eyes, curls dishevelled as she took a step towards her puppy. "Er…Missy?" Clara murmured uneasily. She never liked that look once Missy got it in her eyes. "Missy?"

"You. Are. So. Dead. Puppy!" Missy snarled, as her eyes narrowed and she pounced. Clara fell backwards, down the snow drift, and landed back on her behind, covered in snow as Missy pelted more snowballs down at her.

"Ok, ok, ok!" Clara called, holding her hands up entreatingly. "I give, uncle! Parlay!"

"Shouldn't that be 'I surrender'?" Missy asked silkily, as she eyed the now thoroughly soaked and snowy human. A sly grin made Missy re-think her confidence however, as Clara reached a hand up and grabbed her ankle tightly.

"Well, if you insist!" she yelled, yanked her down into the drift with her until she landed on her back. Clara rolled and pinned her beneath her, hands tight around Missy's wrists. "I accept your surrender," she pronounced solemnly.

Missy stared at her, then started laughing uproariously. This was why she kept Clara around, for sure. Always the unpredictable one. Abruptly she realised that Clara was shivering violently, human body temperatures being less able to handle the colder temperatures that merely felt lukewarm to Missy's cooler skin. Well, that wouldn't do for her puppy to freeze. "Let me up, pup, and let's go somewhere and get warm. Can't have my puppy catching cold…"

"Umm yeah, about that," Clara said pointedly. "I don't see a Holiday Inn anywhere nearby. Where are we anyway?"

"An uninhabited planet in the galaxy you would know as GN- z11, but my people called it the Avitus Galaxy. It's one of the oldest in the Universe," Missy explained as Clara slowly and cautiously eased upright, releasing Missy's wrists.

Clara frowned, recalling something she'd read. "I thought GN- z11 was the oldest?" she asked curiously.

"Give it a few years, your scientists will soon start finding even older galaxies," Missy replied, smirking as she clambered to her feet. "And I think I can do better than a Holiday Inn!"

Clara felt her waist entwined with Missy's arm, pulling her in to the curve of her waist, while the Time Lady retrieved a small metal object from her pocket. Slender and oblong, it resembled a lighter except for a slightly concave surface. Missy slotted her thumb into the dip and Clara jumped as the familiar sound of Tardis engines dematerialising filled the air.

It materialised in the shape of a snowman.

Clara snorted. "Your Tardis has a sense of humour," she giggled.

"Hmm, I wonder where she got _that_ from," Missy muttered, eying Clara narrowly. Unlike the Doctor's Tardis, Clara had hit it off with Missy's Tardis straight away, much to the Time Lady's consternation. "Come on. I think a bath and hot chocolate is just what the Doctor ordered."

Clara groaned. "You know how much I hate it when you use 'Doctor' puns," she growled. Missy grinned.

"I know," she replied airily. "But his inane name choice is just the gift that keeps on giving."

Clara chose not to dignify her sniping with a response, as she trudged towards the Tardis with Missy. She _was_ starting to shiver violently, and a bath sounded heavenly. As for hot chocolate…Clara almost moaned in anticipation.

Just as long as Missy didn't tip chilli powder in as a joke like last time.

* * *

 _ **Yeah, so this was originally supposed to have been posted last Christmas. Hence the 'belated Christmas present' gag. #ashamedfaceandpuppyeyes**_

 _Prompt #12: "_ _I think we need to talk._ _"_

 _To be continued…_


	12. Special Edition Prompt: 50 Shades

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **Special Edition Prompt: Fifty Shades of Grey (originally posted on Tumblr)**

* * *

Clara felt the oddest sensation as she blearily edged back to consciousness. It felt like blood was rushing towards her head, and she was slowly revolving as she forced her eyes open, only to find she was, indeed, revolving slowly and that the reason for the head rush was the fact that her ankles were very neatly, and tightly, bound together, suspended from a jagged rock tor beside her. How the…?

With what little rational thought she still possessed, and that very little considering her position, Clara tried to remember exactly what could have happened to land her in this new mess. She'd been at home, she was reading and then…

A sharp pain in her neck, and then nothing.

Then she dimly recalled the book she'd been reading, a school friend's dim-witted and ill-thought out attempt to hint at Clara that she needed to date more, and horror filled her. Suspicion followed in its wake.

Oh no…

Suddenly polished black boots, dainty and hand-made, filled her limited field of blurry vision, as a familiar voice rang in her ears, compounding her horror even as it confirmed her suspicions.

"Interesting…reading material there, poppet. And I meant that in the loosest sense of the term."

"Which one?" Clara panted, making her captor chuckle derisively.

"Fair point. Although if my puppy wanted to experiment, all she needed do was ask her Mistress," Missy stepped further into view, the lascivious look in her eyes making Clara gulp. "I can offer far better instruction than that pitiful excuse for a book."

Clara stared up at her off-again, on-again frenemy with benefits, and struggled not to let her interest show. That, and she was really starting to feel sick from the dizziness and blood rush. "Oddly enough, this wasn't what I had in mind…"

"I thought I'd improvise. Broaden your horizons," Missy grinned, a shark-like grin that did nothing for Clara's dizziness. She could practically feel her skin turning green with nausea. "Poppet?" Missy asked cautiously, playfulness ebbing as she noted the alarming shade of her puppy's skin.

"Missy," Clara breathed, deeply through her nose to avoid giving in to the urge to vomit, "I need you to cut me down. Cut me down or I will end up throwing up all over your nice, shiny boots."

"Was that a threat to your Mistress?" Missy's eyes narrowed, and Clara mentally groaned.

"At this rate, it's going to be a promise I'll definitely keep in a few minutes," she growled out, shuddering slightly where she hung. "Now cut me down!"

"Alright, alright bossy boots," Missy grumbled, stepping to the side and out of Clara's line of sight. She heard the ring of a blade unsheathed, then the rush of air as she fell to the floor and the world righted itself. "Humans. Pathetic."

Clara only rolled her eyes at that last comment, as she concentrated on getting her breath back and dispelling the nausea, when Missy stepped back into view.

She still had the rope in hand.


	13. Special Edition Prompt: PPZ AU

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **Special Edition Prompt: PPZ!AU (originally posted on Tumblr)**

* * *

Lady Saxon perused the figure standing above the desiccated, newly decapitated Undead, with interested eyes. She was a scrawny thing, clearly underfed and a denizen of the streets, pale skin marred by soot and filth, covered with fresh blood. Her simple dress was torn in a most unmaidenly fashion to her thigh, exposing rough boots. As the girl spun, eyes wide and fierce with bestial instinct, her matted hair caught the light, striking a glint of chestnut.

Yes, a most unprepossessing specimen, typical of her class, but yet…

She had taken an Undead down with naught but her ferocity and a rusty cleaver. She was untrained but there was strength and agility in those rough hands. How…provoking.

And undeniably intriguing.

She had only tagged along with the Paternoster Row gang out of boredom, in town for a few days to see to some business matters, when news had come of an Undead incursion into Cheapside. A handful had breached the sewer defences and snuck inside, before running rampage and killing wantonly. Naturally, Lady Saxon, the most renowned and vicious Undead killer ever trained, had offered her services. It would make a nice change from the usual town pursuits at any rate.

She only wished John had been there to see her.

Drawing her thoughts away from her erstwhile friend, Lady Saxon once again focussed on the young street urchin who was appraising her candidly and with a most proud tilt to her chin. Clearly, this girl was judging her superior and finding her wanting. How amusing!

"Your technique is sloppy, girl. Despite your ferocity, I am surprised you have managed to fell even one Undead alone," Missy called, determined to see if she could tease a response from her new interest.

The girl tensed but did not answer.

"Mute as well as common?" Missy sighed mockingly. "Oh dear, I really should just put you out of your misery before the Scourge does."

Finally, she answered! "I don' take orders from toffs!" she scoffed, seemingly unconcerned by the congealing blood dripping down her face. "I don' much care if yer Undead or no', clear orf before I lose me temper and have yer head too!"

Oh, this was too delicious. "I doubt you could get close enough," Missy replied silkily, as defiance flashed in her opponent's eyes. She lunged at the aristocrat, cleaver whistling through the air. Missy dodged, although not without difficulty; her initial assessment of the girl's agility did her scant justice. Nevertheless, it gave both the proximity and the opening she wanted, as she dodged to the side and grabbed the girl's wrist. She twisted viciously, and the girl dropped her weapon with a muffled curse. Lazily, Missy flicked a knife from its sheath concealed within the depths of her sleeve, and held it to the soft flesh of the girl's throat. Underneath all that grime, she'd wager it was a shade of peach, soft and beguiling. Desire surfaced, but she ignored it placidly. "Nice try, girl," she pronounced condescendingly. "But you're far outclassed here."

"Am I?" the girl challenged her.

Missy stifled a laugh when she felt the jabbing point of a knife against her ribs, held in the girl's free hand. "Very well, a truce then. Your name, girl?"

Consideration filled the girl's eyes, a shade of entrancing ochre and mahogany now Missy was close enough to see, and her head cocked to the side. Finally, she came to a decision. "Clara. Clara Oswald," she replied firmly, before her eyes widened as they slid to the side. "Look out!"

Missy dimly heard the lumbering footsteps of the creature as she was shoved aside, and the dagger that had been at her ribs found a new home nestled in the eye of an unfortunate Undead. Panting, the girl, Clara, turned to her.

"Well, it seems I owe you now, Clara Oswald," Missy began as she rose to her feet, mind racing. "There will soon be more, and the militia is on its way. Come, if you want the chance to live a little bit longer."

Her pride wondering what the hell her tongue was playing at, Missy turned and began to walk away from the grim site of battle, wondering if the girl's own pride would let her follow a 'toff'. With a satisfied smirk, she heard the girl fall into step beside her.

Oh yes, no doubt this was going to be very interesting indeed.


	14. Special Edition Prompt: WoW AU

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

 **Special Edition Prompt: War of the Worlds!AU (originally posted on Tumblr)**

* * *

"Look! Another one of those green flashes!" Clara called excitedly as she peered through the telescope, bundled up tightly against the steadily cooling English night. "It's coming from Mars."

Her companion sighed and yawned theatrically, not bothering to look up from her book. Used, by now, to her lover's idiosyncrasies, not least her occasional cruelty, Clara tracked the stream of emerald mist eagerly, her mind uneasy but her heart pounding with excitement.

"Do you think there is anything alive on Mars?" she wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer.

"Of course not!" scoffed her companion. "Mars has long been in a state of decline, even if such beings existed, they would be long extinct by now."

"Not necessarily," Clara argued, finally turning away from her observations to look on her companion. "They might have survived by other means. They might even have technology and intellect superior to our own-"

"Certainly superior to yours, Clara dear, if these infantile questions are any measure of your intelligence," the still somnolent figure beside her retorted. Clara flinched, her comment stung, but as if sensing her young paramour's hurt and discontent, she finally stretched and stood. "Come, dear. I did not mean it, and I am tired from arguing with those dolts at the Royal Society all day."

Mollified, Clara's jaw firmed. "Well, you and the Society might think it silly, but I think this gas is Martians. No doubt, we are as trivial as insects to them, but think what we could learn from them when they arrive!"

"Dear lord, you are as pig-headed and indefatigable as Doctor Smith," Missy huffed, finally reaching out and snaring her paramour's corseted waist tightly, before she could escape and turn back to her perusal of interplanetary phenomena. "Now listen to me, Clara mine, there are no Martians. The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one. Now come, it's past midnight and we should be abed."

Despite Missy's confidence, Clara couldn't help but look back over her shoulder at the distant flash of green, instinct fighting with logic, as Missy led her indoors. A million to one? Perhaps. But they were still coming.


	15. Prompt 12: I think we need to talk

Tumblr Drabble Series: Every Miner Needs A Canary

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N:**_ **So I** **'** **ve decided to do all 49 of those prompts for that Tumblr drabble challenge, all Missfle, with some other pairings mentioned or implied but Missy x Clara is the main pairing. Some will be canon-compliant, others AU etc, some long, some short, some smutty, some angst-y, some funny, some romantic as the fancy takes me. But all Missfle.**

* * *

Prompt #12: "I think we need to talk." (Scandal!AU)

Clara smiled as she watched the figures dancing below, watched by a crowd of hundreds of guests. The ballroom glimmered and shone with the combined light of the candelabra and the jewels flashing at the necks, ears and wrists of the guests below her balcony.

It had been Clara's idea to throw a gala for the donors and major grassroots party leaders. Her boss might not like to admit it, but without the donations and the foot soldiers, they wouldn't have won this election.

Below her, the Prime Minister and her husband revolved slowly to the music played by a string quartet in the corner of the cavernous room. Clara's heart twinged as she watched, but she ignored it as usual. There was no point getting jealous, this was just how things were.

Which was why she had to change them.

Eventually the dance came to its natural conclusion, and more couples spilled out onto the floor as the quartet started up again, and the hum of conversation ran like a constant droning beneath the exquisite music of the strings.

Clara took a sip of her champagne as she scanned the crowd for her boss, but she was nowhere to be found. Her husband stood chatting to some donors, scientific types that were the few donors the irascible man could stand, as Clara knew only too well.

But where was the Prime Minister?

Clara's confusion was erased when a set of pale arms linked themselves around her waist, and she was pulled back against a slender female body. "Checking up on the old man?" a voice in her ear asked acerbically, as Clara snorted.

"Well, John did call me his 'carer' once," she retorted easily. She took a fortifying sip of champagne as she tried to ease herself out of her boss's hold. "You should be down there with him."

"Well, maybe if my director of communications hadn't disappeared…" was the sultry reply as soft lips pressed against her neck. "I missed you, poppet…"

Clara closed her eyes, letting herself forget what she had to do for one moment, letting her boss's soft arms and softer lips lull her into a yielding embrace. But it couldn't last…

"Missy," she breathed, a warning tone in her voice.

"Puppy, you're no fun," Missy sighed as Clara eased out of her arms and turned to face her. Missy was resplendent in amethyst silk, her dark hair immaculately curled and piled atop her head. It made Clara's mouth go dry, and she swallowed reflexively.

But this couldn't go on. Fooling around when she was just Leader of the Opposition was one thing; doing it now she was the Prime Minister was stupidly dangerous. She wouldn't watch Missy's premiership collapse because of her infatuation. She and John made a good team, despite his irritability and Missy's impulsiveness. And Clara was just a thorn in their side.

For their sake, and her own, she had to end it.

Clara took a deep breath, digging deep for strength. "Missy, I think we need to talk."

* * *

 _Prompt #13 "Kiss me."_

 _To be continued…_


	16. Special Edition Prompt: Jane Bond AU

Special Edition: 'The Name's Oswald. Clara Oswald.' (Jane Bond AU)

 _ **A/N: I know I said I wouldn't be writing anything new while I'm writing my thesis but this was technically written months ago. I was suffering from an intellectual migraine after six hours straight work on my thesis and needed a fandom break. Which leads to the next bit; I know I promised a Jane Bond AU after watching 'Spectre' and basically fantasising Misffle in its place the whole while, and I wrote this in the spirit of that initial fantasy. However, the more I thought about it, the more I expanded and poked and prodded, the less the AU held together. Clara in all her glory just is not a James Bond type. This is not a criticism, it is her strength. While I think Clara is capable of killing, either through self-defence or in grief a la 'Death in Heaven', and I explore that possibility in 'What We Deserve', I don't think she's capable of the kind of cold-blooded, ruthlessly premeditated murder that is Bond at its most simplistic. I enjoy Bond, despite its flaws, but I just couldn't make the AU work without making Clara seriously OOC. It's a pity, because there were some seriously cool ass-kicking moments in the series which I might include in this drabble series, but as of now, the Clara Bond AU series is mothballed indefinitely. So have this introductory piece as a taste of what might-have-been, and there may well be more moments from the series further down the line. It's also not Misffle, but that would definitely have factored in at some point. I'll include a few moments with them at some point down the line.**_

* * *

 _ **23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **December 2011,**_

 _ **Prague, Czech Republic**_

 _ **11:30pm**_

 _A gleaming black Jaguar pulled up outside the towering glass and steel office block a mere stone's throw away from the Prague State Opera on Wilsonova 4, as the fresh snow and ice cracked under its tyres. The passenger door opened to reveal a hunched figure pulling itself from the car's interior, dark eyes scanning the deserted street intently._

 _Apparently satisfied that nothing sinister lurked nearby, the figure straightened up into that of a man, warmly dressed against the frigid Czech winter. With a nod to the driver, he turned towards the building and quickly entered as the Jaguar pulled away._

 _Inside, the office block was utterly devoid of life, except for the dozing security guard who quickly snapped to attention on seeing a superior._

" _S-sir!" he stammered, hastily straightening his tie. "We weren't expecting you in tonight, everyone else has gone-"_

" _Home, yes I know," the other man replied dourly. "You're lucky you're not in the military, Hastings, you'd be court-martialled for falling asleep at your post. Don't let it happen again!"  
_

" _Yes sir," Hastings nodded, waiting until the other man had walked to the lifts before muttering under his breath. "Smarmy officer prick. I'm not getting paid enough for this shit."_

 _With a shrug, he settled back into his chair, taking a mouthful of coffee. As the brief flare of adrenaline from being caught napping by a senior officer faded, doziness swiftly set back in._

 _Hastings' superior frowned out at the slowly passing floors, as the glass lift ascended silently up the block. He didn't know the man well, but Hastings wasn't the type to doze off while on a night shift._

 _He shook off the suspicion, as the lift doors pinged open, and he stepped out. As with all the others, the floor was deserted, thrown into heavy darkness but for small pools of light, brief interruptions in the void, from the lights of the city outside. But otherwise empty and peaceful._

 _Exactly how he preferred it. The nice thing about being a section chief in Eastern Europe nowadays, no one gave much of a damn anymore. The danger was to the East and South, from China, the Middle East and Central Africa, not from the former USSR._

 _Nonetheless, years of military training had him on edge, eyes scanning the shadows even as he knew there could be no way for him to have been discovered yet. Oh, it would happen eventually, soon probably, but he would be long gone by then._

 _Confidently, he continued on to his office._

 _However, suspicion flared into dreadful certainty. Directly across from the door, in the half-light from the streetlamps outside, he could see that his private safe door was not only unlocked, but had actually been lifted off its hinges and the door now lay, redundant and absurdly forlorn-looking, on the floor behind his desk._

 _He stepped further into the room, eyes now scanning the darkness, not noticing the shadow behind him or the one sat watching him intently with coldly calculating eyes from the darkness opposite his desk._

 _The door slammed shut, and he jumped, spinning around. His eyes widened when he saw the unidentifiable shadow behind him, as a feminine voice spoke from the darkness._

" _You know, B doesn't really mind you making a little extra money on the side, Yates. He'd just rather you didn't do it selling government secrets."_

 _Yates lunged for his desk lamp, aware that the shadow at his back didn't move to stop him. Surreptitiously, he opened his desk drawer, revealing the Beretta waiting, fully loaded and primed, inside._

 _The desk lamp immediately illuminated the inky blackness that had filled his office. Opposite him, Yates could now make out the tall, slender features of a man, dressed in a dark coat and suit, hands covered by leather gloves._

 _The woman who'd spoken, he immediately recognised. Clara Oswald._

 _Seconded from London, he hadn't paid her much attention. She was a low-level analyst, presumably reassigned just so she could tick the box labelled 'overseas service' on her record. But then again, presumably not, if the woman sitting opposite him was any indication._

 _Gone was the vivacious warmth he'd glimpsed during their rare encounters. Her eyes were cold and shrewd, tracking his every movement like a hunting cat stalking her prey. Nevertheless, while cursing his misstep in underestimating her, Yates felt little fear. While Miss Oswald was clearly clever, it was far more likely she and her friend had been sent to warn and interrogate, not assassinate. 00s asked no questions, they shot first. If Miss Oswald was a 00, he'd have been dead the moment he'd walked through the door._

 _So, fear and intimidation then. Confidence restored, Yates sat down at his desk, pulling off his gloves. "If the theatrics were designed to scare me, you've failed on that score," he drawled, with all the pomposity his British Army background had instilled in him. "You have the wrong man, Miss Oswald. If B was at all certain I was a mole, he'd have sent a double 00."_

 _Keeping an eye on the shadowy figure watching the interlude closely, he scanned the figure of the woman in front of him. Vivaciously pretty, with a sumptuous figure and with all the welcoming temptation of chocolate with her dark hair and eyes, Clara Oswald was a vision in her fashionable black coat with sleeves made of leather, hair neatly tied back and her lips dyed blood-red. She was utterly relaxed and confident, sat back in the chair as if she owned the place. No sign of a weapon on her person anywhere._

 _Silly little girl._

" _Benefits of being 'C' section chief…" he continued, patronisingly. "I'd know if anyone had been promoted to double-0 status. While the section listing you as an analyst was obviously a lie, you wouldn't be the first. Your file shows no kills, and it takes-"_

" _Two," Oswald interrupted him smoothly, with a slow smile. Yates' confidence disappeared at that smile. Without another word, he reached for his gun._

 _So far, the other person in the room had made no move, either to help or hinder either one of them. Yates took a chance, and aimed his Beretta at Oswald._

" _Shame," he sighed, dredging up what confidence he had left. "We barely got to know each other."_

 _He pulled the trigger. Oswald didn't blink, as the pistol clicked uselessly. She held up the magazine in one dainty hand, pulled from the depths of a coat pocket. "I know where you keep your gun. Rookie mistake," she remarked easily, before throwing the magazine away from them, across the other side of the room. "Want to know how he died? Your contact?"_

 _Yates lowered the gun, the dread returning full force. The game was up, he was finished. Now masochistic curiosity pushed him on. "How?" he asked._

" _Not well. Painfully," Miss Oswald replied. "I had him all sorted with a nice, painless poison. Should have worked too, but he was proving…reluctant to die. I was on a tight schedule."_

" _Made you feel it, did he?" Yates asked, in mock-sympathy, realising the full scope of his folly in underestimating the woman in front of him._

 _Miss Oswald shrugged. "I slit his throat. Messy, but effective."_

" _Well, don't worry," he continued. "The second is far easier-"_

 _With one smooth, practised movement, Miss Oswald raised her hand and pulled the trigger, where her gun had been camouflaged in the darkness beside her chair. The silencer did its work, as Yates flew back over his chair, landing in a sprawl against the glass window of his office, blood leaking from a cylindrical wound in his forehead._

" _Considerably so," she murmured, as she rose from her chair, clicking the safety into place and hiding the weapon back inside the lining of her coat. The shadow that had stood watching, saying nothing, doing nothing, stepped into the pool of light to reveal stern facial features and slicked back iron-grey curls framing ice-blue eyes. She looked towards him with one raised brow. "Well?" she demanded. "You were a big help."_

" _Wouldn't have been much of a test if I had," he replied in a brusque Glaswegian accent. "Are you alright?"_

" _Oddly…" she cocked her head to the side, before she smiled a little. "I'm fine."_

 _They both looked down at the man lying spread-eagled at their feet, as Clara's eyes flashed towards the photographs on his desk. "Will his family-?" she asked._

" _They'll be looked after," her partner assured her. "They'll be reimbursed, and to the entire world, Mike Yates will die in a fire at his flat in Prague, which is coincidentally empty tonight."_

 _Clara nodded, before turning away from the sight of the corpse, as he turned to look at her. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, eyes searching hers intently. "You don't have to go through with this, you can walk away."_

" _From what? To what?" she asked, with a little laugh. "I am what I am. There is no turning back now, John."_

 _John sighed. "Very well then, ," he muttered, before looking to her with a grim smile. "The stabilisers are coming off. Welcome to the double-0 section, 007."_

" _Thank you, 0012," Clara smirked a little, as they left that grisly scene and the office far behind while the MI6 cleanup team did their work. "Chips and coffee?"_

" _Fine, but you're buying," John grunted as they left the building._


End file.
